


Hold Out

by freosan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: D/s, Dominant Ignis Scientia, M/M, Omorashi, Submissive Gladiolus Amicitia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: “What are you doing?” Gladio demands of the back of Ignis’s head.“Pulling rank, I suppose,” Ignis says dryly.





	Hold Out

“Hey, Iggy, pull over at that gas station?” Gladio says, when they’re a half mile away from the exit.

There’s no reason Ignis shouldn’t just signal the turn and head off the highway, but he doesn’t. Actually it seems like he didn’t hear Gladio at all, and even when Gladio points out the exit as they head past it, he just says, “We won’t need to fill the tank again for some time.”

Gladio rolls his eyes. “So don’t. I gotta piss,” he says.

“I suggest you use some of that vaunted self-control, and wait, Gladiolus,” Ignis says, giving Gladio a look in the rear-view mirror.

Gladio’s full name gets Prompto’s attention, and the blonde turns around in his seat to watch. His eyes are wide and sympathetic and that’s when it clicks for Gladio; this is part of one of Ignis’s power tripping sex games, the kind of thing he’s never initiated with Gladio before. Even when Gladio’s subbed for Noct, he’s kept it to the bedroom… so far. He’d always felt there was a possibility of more, and it looks like possibility has become reality.

“What are you doing?” Gladio demands of the back of Ignis’s head.

“Pulling rank, I suppose,” Ignis says dryly. “Noct, you don’t mind me taking Gladiolus off your hands for a little while, do you?”

Now Noct is watching Gladio, too, and Gladio squirms a little in his seat, which doesn’t help his bladder situation at all. Noct tilts his head and his face is a question: _you okay with this_?

Noct’s interest is all takes for Gladio to go from righteously pissed off to wanting to please. He nods.

“Nah,” Noct says. “He’s all yours.”

So they keep driving.

Prompto flashes Gladio an encouraging grin, and goes back to his phone. Figures Gladio wouldn’t get any help from him, either. Every once in a while Gladio’s caught Prompto wearing a butt plug in the middle of the day on Ignis’s orders; this is probably tame as far as he’s concerned. Noct doesn’t seem too interested, but occasionally he looks over Gladio’s way.

The first fifteen minutes are uncomfortable, but nothing Gladio can’t handle. The next ten are _seriously_ uncomfortable. After another five, Gladio shifts in his seat, and a spike of pain makes him hiss through his teeth.

“What in the world isthe matter?” Ignis asks, the first time he’s deigned to give Gladio any attention since he assumed control.

Gladio drops his head against the back of Ignis’s seat and squeezes his legs together as he replies. “Point’s been made, _Ignis_ , I’m gonna piss myself if we don’t stop soon.”

“If Noct thinks we ought to stop, we shall,” Ignis says smoothly.

Gladio chances a glance over at his prince, who has his own head leaned up against the back of Prompto’s seat, so he can watch Gladio’s face better. Noct looks curious, and not at all sympathetic. It’s obvious before he speaks that Gladio’s not getting any help from him.

“How many more miles in the tank?” Noct asks.

“A hundred and fifty,” Ignis tells him. Gladio only barely suppresses a sound of dismay; that’s at least two hours of driving, more if there’s any trouble on the road.

Noct looks Gladio up and down, from his legs, pressed tight together, to his face, where he can’t keep the grimace completely under control, and says, “Don’t need to stop for a while, then.”

Gladio groans out loud. Noct smiles, not gently, and shifts in his seat so his head is on Gladio’s thigh.

“Trick for surviving long meetings,” Noct says. He puts his hand on Gladio’s leg and runs his fingers gently up the inseam of his pants. “If you think about sex you won’t have to pee so bad.”

“Where the hell did you learn that?” Gladio says, less steadily than he’d like.

“And which meetings were you distracting yourself during?” Ignis interjects.

Noct shrugs, one-shouldered, and goes back to massaging Gladio’s thigh. Surprisingly enough, it does help. Suddenly Gladio’s cock is interested in something other than the ache of trying to keep his control. Gladio leans his head forward again with a groan as Noct walks his fingers up until he’s cupping Gladio’s balls.

He seems content to stay there, slowly stroking Gladio through the thin leather of his pants, until Gladio’s trapped hard-on hurts almost as bad as holding it did. There’s no sound in the car except the occasional click of Prompto’s shutter. No distractions from Noct’s distraction. It takes a while before he works up to it, but eventually Noct runs his fingers around the head of Gladio’s cock, and Gladio feels something soaking into his underwear that might be precome or might be piss.

“Noct,” he groans. His hands ball into fists at his sides, and Noct shifts so he’s looking up into Gladio’s eyes.

“Hey, Specs, better let him go,” Noct says. Gladio almost moans in relief.

“You’re sure, Highness?”

“Yeah. He’s looking pretty desperate.”

“Very well, then. Gladiolus, you should say thank you. Properly.”

“Thank you, Highness,” Gladio rumbles. Noct grins and squeezes the inside of Gladio’s thigh, hard, making Gladio grit his teeth.

He almost doesn’t even notice when Ignis pulls right over on the side of the road instead of looking for an exit. Ignis is out of the car and opening Gladio’s door before Gladio figures out what he’s after.

“Are you fucking serious?” Gladio asks. The landscape is flat and treeless for miles. If anybody at all drove by, they’d be able to see anything.

“Entirely, Gladiolus. It’s this or wait until we do need gasoline.”

Gladio huffs and reaches for his seatbelt. “Alright, fine. Fucking power trip…”

Ignis just raises his eyebrow, and watches as Gladio makes to stand up. He only gets as far putting one foot out of the car before he has to stop as a wave of desperation hits him; he freezes and clenches every pelvic muscle he has so tight it’s painful. But he doesn’t piss himself, just barely.

“Control yourself. I won’t clean those pants if you make a mess of them,” Ignis tells him. He reaches over and grips a handful of Gladio’s hair; it’s not like he has a collar or some shit, but Gladio knows enough not to try and break that hold, even though it’s awkward as he climbs out of the car.

They leave Noct and Prompto there. Ignis promises they won’t be out of sight or earshot, which Gladio both appreciates and really, really doesn’t want to think about. He thinks he can feel their eyes burning a hole in his back as Ignis leads him about fifty yards away from the roadside.

“Kneel,” Ignis tells him. Gladio drops to his knees with as much control as he can manage, and Ignis’s hand follows him down, guiding him.

“Good. You may take yourself out, but keep holding it.”

Gladio hesitates with his hands on his belt. “Gonna give a guy some privacy?”

“No,” Ignis says. He pats Gladio’s head, entirely condescendingly. “Go ahead.”

It’s not easy getting an Amicitia to blush, but as he fumbles with his belt and zipper under Ignis’s watchful eye, Gladio’s skin is burning from his cheeks right down to his tattoo. He gets his dick out and grits his teeth; there’s a new wave of pain when he stops the reflexive urge to piss the second he’s out of his pants. Ignis’s hand tightens in his hair and pulls his head back.

“Perhaps you do have enough self-control to be worth bragging about,” Ignis comments, but it definitely doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“C’mon, Iggy.”

“Ten more seconds,” Ignis says. “Count.”

Gladio takes a deep breath and lets it out, staring straight into Ignis’s eyes. He’s not going to whine about it. He starts at one and counts up slow and even, because he can take anything Ignis can throw at him, and _definitely not_ because he wants to impress him.

When he gets to ten, Ignis says, “Very good,” and releases his grip to stroke Gladio’s hair.

Gladio grits his teeth and says, _“Ignis._ ”

“Oh, of course.” Ignis laughs, and Gladio’s cheeks burn hotter, something in his gut twisting up. He’d stop this if he wasn’t already so desperate - if the need wasn’t already overriding his ability to think clearly. Instead he hangs on Ignis’s words.

“You can go ahead,” Ignis finally says, as casual as anything.

Even though it’s either piss or let his bladder explode, it takes a second, to get over the embarrassment of doing this in front of another person. Nothing comes out at first. Gladio has to take a couple deep breaths, and the last one comes out in a rush, as he finally lets go.

Ignis watches, not Gladio’s dick which he half expected, but Gladio’s face. After a quick glance up to confirm that Gladio keeps his eyes steadily turned to the ground. It takes a long time for the stream to end, and he’s shivering by the time he’s done. Ignis’s fingers don’t ever stop their soft stroking through his hair.

Gladio shakes his head and his beard scrapes against fine cloth. Ignis has pulled him in to lean on his thigh, his gloved hand still cupped firm around Gladio’s head. He almost gives into it, to the comfort of having Ignis hold him up like that, but no. He shakes himself off and does his zipper back up, and pulls himself to his feet. Ignis doesn’t insult him by offering his hand.

Noct and Prompto watch them from the car as they walk back, Prompto with wide eyes, Noct with the quiet, intent interest that Gladio’s coming to recognize and dread. Gladio waves to them.

“You did well. Perhaps there will be a reward for you later tonight,” Ignis says, a few yards from the car.

Gladio grins at him. “I damn well earned it, didn’t I?”

He jumps back into his seat without waiting for an answer.


End file.
